Aftermath
by Persuader
Summary: Aftermath - The consequences of an event, especially a disastrous one, or the period of time during which these consequences are felt. Following 2x08 His red right hand, Lisbon tries to deal with her emotions after Bosco's death. Jisbon.
1. Part 1

This was originally a oneshot but it was long so i've split it into two parts. This is my first attempt at fanfiction so i'd love to know what you think of it.

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Grief.

An emotion that Lisbon is well acquainted with. By the time she had hit puberty she had already lost her mother and grief had become an unwelcome friend. Now over twenty years after the death of her mother Teresa Lisbon once again finds herself struggling for air as a tidal wave of grief threatens to suffocate her. The loss of Sam Bosco has hit her harder than she ever would have imagined, and she is ill prepared for the intensity with which the grief slams through her body. She feels like she's 12 years old again, sitting on a plastic chair in the hospital waiting room, watching her father crying on the doctor's shoulder and realising that her mother really is gone forever.

Lisbon struggles to drag herself back to present, to remember that she is a grown woman now and not the same terrified little girl. She opens her eyes and wipes the tears which are still running down her cheeks, taking some comfort in her familiar surroundings. She has sent her team home for the night but she remains in her office, sat on the floor with her back against the wall as she never made it to the chair before she collapsed.

She hears a noise coming from the bullpen and she freezes, listening hard and wondering if it was just her imagination as she could have sworn she was alone. The noise comes again, clearer this time. Footsteps. Lisbon unclips her gun from the holster silently and raises it to shoulder height, pointing it towards the doorway. There was a time when she felt safe in this building, but since Sam died she hasn't felt safe anywhere but least of all here. The blinds are drawn and the office is in darkness, the thought to turn the desk lamp on never crossed her mind before she broke down in tears.

The footsteps come closer until she sees the silhouette of a man in the doorway.

"Stop," She shouts, "Put your hands where I can see them."

"Whoa Lisbon, it's me," She hears the distinctive voice of Patrick Jane say hastily while doing as she said for once and raising his hands above his head.

"Jane?" She hisses, angry that he has once again managed to catch her off guard, "What are you doing here?"

"I was coming to ask you the same question; I was resting on my couch when I heard you in here," He responds. "I thought you had gone home already?"

Lisbon doesn't reply, not wanting to admit that she did in fact pretend to go home so that the rest of her team would leave. She had said goodbye, got in her car and than drove once round the block before heading back to her office.

"Can you put the gun away, please?" He says after a moment's silence, "You make me nervous when you point the thing at me."

Lisbon lowers the gun quickly, not realising that she had still been pointing it at him and he still has his hands in the air. She holsters it and he finally lowers his arms with a sigh. She can feel his eyes boring into her and she suddenly realises how pathetic she must look curled up on the floor. She stands up quickly, trying not to let him see that her legs are shaking and she can barely hold herself upright.

He makes his way over the desk and flips the switch on the lamp. The intensity of the light after sitting in the dark for so long makes Lisbon want to turn her head away and shut her eyes, but she doesn't, not wanting to show any more signs of weakness tonight. She watches him warily as he perches on the corner of her desk, resting in his hands in his lap and just staring at her.

"What are you doing here?" She asks again, after he has made it clear that he has no intention of leaving.

"Are you ok?" He asks, blatantly ignoring her previous question.

Lisbon frowns at him. He looks so calm sat on her desk in the middle of the night, he looks like he belongs there and she feels lost and like a visitor in her own office. She frowns even more when she notices the underlying look of pity on his face, pity that is directed at her. And she _hates_ people pitying her.

"Lisbon?" He says quietly. "I know you're not ok, I can help you."

She knows his words are meant to soothe and calm her but they have the opposite effect. The arrogance he displays in assuming he knows what's wrong with her, and the assurance that he knows how to help her combined with his calm exterior, while she feels like she's falling apart inside, sparks a new emotion in her. It starts in her toes and spreads up though her body, it hardens her heart and dries her eyes, it pushes the grief aside and she welcomes this new emotion with open arms because it makes her feel powerful.

Anger.

Lisbon feels as though the anger is a physical presence inside of her, like a beast which has taken residence in her cells. She clenches her fists so tightly at her sides that her knuckles turn white, and she is fairly certain that her cheeks are flushing a deep red as she lets this beast take over her body and mind.

"What makes you think I need help?" She spits out furiously. "And better yet, even if I _did_ need help, what makes you think that _you _would be the one to help me?"

He looks at her, a slightly stunned expression on his face. The beast laughs and revels in the fact that for once it appears that Patrick Jane is speechless.

"I...Lisbon? Are you ok?" He asks again, confusion evident in his tone. She smirks when she realises that she has caught him off guard, perhaps for the first time in their turbulent relationship he is completely unable to read her and that only makes Lisbon feel even more powerful.

"Stop asking me that! I don't want your help, you don't make things better; you only ever make them worse. You complicate things, you cause more problems than you solve..."

"Stop it, Lisbon," He interrupts her tirade. "Don't say that, I know you're angry but can we just..."

"You don't know anything," She snaps, interrupting his pleading. He looks at her like she has slapped him and even though some distant part of her realises that she is hurting him she can't stop.

"I do know," He says quietly. "I know exactly how you're feeling right now because I've been there, I know how it feels to lose someone to Red John, I know how helpless you feel right now, I know Lisbon. Let me help you."

His quiet tone and insistence that he can help her only fuels her anger more. She walks towards him slowly until she is standing just inches away from him.

"For the last time, I don't want or need your help." She whispers, so close that she can feel his breath hitting her face. "Maybe you're right, maybe you do know how it feels. After all you're the expert, how many deaths are you responsible for now? Your wife, your daughter...and what about Bosco? Why didn't you pick up on Rebecca? That's your job isn't it, that's why you work for me, because you can read people? So tell me, why the hell didn't you realise that she was working for Red John? Why didn't you..."

"STOP IT!" He shouts eventually. He lunges away from her, moving backwards until his back is pressed up against the wall, as far away from her as he can get. "You don't mean it," He whispers, and Lisbon thinks that he is talking more to himself than to her.

"I mean every word," She whispers, before turning to face him slowly.

The second she lays her eyes on him she feels like she has been doused in cold water. The feeling returns to her body and the anger dissipates as quickly as it came but she knows it's too late, the damage has already been done. She stares at him, or what's left of him anyway, she thinks she has managed to finish what Red John started and destroy him completely.

He stares back at her, his eyes haunted and face twisted in pain the likes of which she has never seen. Before she can make any moves to try and repair the destruction she has caused, he has turned and stumbled from her office like a drunken man.

"Wait," She whispers, unable to shout around the lump which has formed in her throat. She staggers after him, gripping the doorframe for support as her legs give way beneath her. She collapses on the ground, barely aware of the sobs wracking her body, knowing that she can't catch him, knowing that she just destroyed one of the most important people in her life.

The anger has receded completely and in its wake Lisbon is left hollow, until a new emotion presents itself, so intense that it causes shudders to pass through her body.

Guilt.

Lisbon is unsure how long she has been lying in the doorway, long enough that the arm she is resting on has gone completely dead and her back aches as she stretches out. She manages to stumble to her feet and for a moment she stands confused and disorientated, unsure where to go or what her next move should be.

The thought of going home briefly crosses her mind but the rational side of her brain knows that she is in no fit state to be driving. Instead, after a moments hesitation, she carefully makes her way over to _his_ couch. She sinks into the worn leather, finding his jacket still wadded up into a ball which he had obviously been using for a pillow. She rests her head on the expensive material, comforted by the lingering smell of him, and drifts in out of nightmares, neither truly awake nor asleep.

The next time Lisbon becomes fully aware of her surroundings it is daylight and someone is shaking her shoulder gently.

"Boss?" Agent Grace Van Pelt says softly as she tries to shake the older agent awake.

Lisbon opens her eyes, knowing that they must be bloodshot and swollen from the amount of tears she cried. Her hair is sticking up in all directions, her clothes are rumpled from sleep and she has a pounding headache. She groans and raises a hand to her head.

"Boss, are you ok?" Van Pelt asks. The words cause Lisbon to visibly flinch as she recalls the previous evening when _he _had asked her the same question. She tries to nod her head but the action only intensifies her headache and causes her to groan again.

Van Pelt has never seen her boss in anything like this kind of state before and she is unsure what to do for the best. She wants to ask questions but bites her tongue, seeing that Lisbon is in no fit state to answer them. She realizes by his absence and the fact that Lisbon is curled up on his couch that this must have something to do with Jane, maybe they had a fight?

"Erm, boss? Do you want me to take you home?" She says eventually, unsure what else she can do to help.

"Yes, please," Lisbon manages to say after a couple of tries, her mouth is so dry she is surprised she can open it at all.

Van Pelt helps her to stand up and almost has to carry her out to the car, luckily it is still early and few people notice the two women, and of the few who do see no-one dares to ask any questions. The drive to Lisbon's apartment is done mostly in silence, with the senior agent only speaking to give directions when necessary. Once the car has pulled up outside her apartment Lisbon sighs before turning to face the younger agent.

She feels like doing nothing other than going to bed and wallowing in guilt, but she is aware that she needs to give some sort of explanation as to why she is not going to be at work.

"Can you, uh, tell the team that I'm not feeling well and I'm going to take the day off," Lisbon says eventually. "And...I don't think Jane is going to be working either," Her voice breaks slightly at the mention of his name and she knows she is close to tears again.

"That's ok, we'll manage," Van Pelt responds. She takes a deep breath before continuing. "Boss?" She says nervously, "Is Jane ok? I mean, should I try to check up on him?"

"I don't know if he's ok," Lisbon says after a long pause. "We had a fight, I said some things to him which I..." She pauses again and shakes her head to try and clear it. "Maybe you could try and call him for me, just to check he's ok. I'm not sure where he would go, I don't even know where he lives."

"I'll call him, don't worry, and I'll keep calling him until he answers." Van Pelt says reassuringly.

"Ok then, can you let me know when you've spoken to him?" Lisbon asks.

"Of course, I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything. Take care of yourself, and give me a ring if you need anything," Van Pelt adds as Lisbon gets out of the car slowly. She watches until her boss has made it safely into the building before pulling out her cell phone and dialling Jane's number. The phone doesn't ring once before going to voicemail, she leaves him a message asking him to call her before hanging up with a sigh. Van Pelt drives back to the office on autopilot, unable to get the image of her broken boss out of her mind. She crosses her fingers and prays to whoever may be listening that Jane has also managed to get home safely, and that whatever damage has been caused can be repaired, hopefully sooner rather than later.

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Part 2 will follow within the next couple of days, it's already written I just need to tidy it up a bit. Rewiews would be greatly appreciated, and thanks for reading.


	2. Part 2

Sincere apologies for the delay on posting this, but better late than never! Thanks to everyone who reviewed part 1 I really appreciate it.

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Fear.

Lisbon spends the morning lying in bed, checking her phone every 2 minutes to see if Van Pelt has called and she has somehow missed it ringing, even though she is sitting with it grasped in her hand. She feels light headed and dizzy and every time she thinks of Jane she swears her heart misses a beat.

What if he isn't ok? A hundred different scenarios run through her mind and in the end Lisbon can't take it anymore. She flips open her cell phone and dials Van Pelt's number quickly before she can change her mind. The younger agent answers on the first ring.

"Hey boss, I was just going to call you," Van Pelt says.

"Have you spoken to Jane? Is he ok?" Lisbon asks urgently, fear causing her voice to come out an octave higher than usual.

"I don't know; I'm sorry I haven't spoken to him. His cell is going straight to voicemail and he's not responding to any of my messages." Van Pelt pauses and Lisbon can hear her take deep breath. "I heard what you said before, about not knowing where he lives, so I did a little research. He never sold the house he lived in with his family, and I've checked the records to make sure he's never purchased any other residence."

"You think he still lives there?" Lisbon asks, failing to keep the shock and doubt from her voice.

"I thought it was worth a shot so I looked up the address and drove out to the house. His car's here so I'm assuming he's in there as well, I was going to call to see if you wanted me to go in and check up on him?" Van Pelt asks.

There is a moment of silence while Lisbon runs through the options in her head.

"No," She responds eventually. "I really appreciate all your help, but I think this is something that I need to do myself. Can you come pick me up? My car is still at work"

"Of course, I'll be there as soon as I can," Van Pelt says before hanging up.

Lisbon scrambles out of bed, feeling more apprehensive than ever about the prospect of having to face the broken man she saw last night. She runs through a speech in her head while changing her clothes, trying to figure out some way to explain her behaviour and fix the mess she has caused.

By the time Van Pelt arrives to pick her up Lisbon is a nervous wreck inside, while still trying desperately to appear strong and calm on the outside. If the looks of concern Van Pelt keeps throwing her way on the drive over to his house are any indication, she is obviously doing a very poor job of hiding her distress.

As they pull up outside his house Lisbon has to force her legs to move. She barely hears Van Pelts whispered good luck as she exits the car; instead she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until she makes it to the front door. She debates with herself for a moment, should she knock or just walk in? In the end she decides that knocking would be pointless because she knows he won't answer. She finds the door unlocked and takes a deep breath before pushing it open and entering the silent house.

Lisbon finds him on the second floor. To say she is shocked by the state of the rooms she has walked through would be an understatement, they are almost deviod of furniture and there are no signs that anyone lives in the house at all. She has almost convinced herself that he isn't there when she opens the door at the end of the upstairs hallway.

The first thing she notices is the smiley face painted on the wall. She can't help but gasp and she has to force herself not to turn away from the mocking smile, or close her eyes in disgust and pretend that she never saw it. Her eyes eventually drift downwards towards the man sitting on the mattress laid out on the floor, directly beneath the bloody signature. She swears her heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

Remorse.

She has never felt more remorseful in her life. Never wished that she could take back something she has said or done as much as she wishes she could take back the previous nights argument. He is just sitting there, staring at the wall, seemingly oblivious to her presence in the room. She stumbles across the room on autopilot, with no purpose in mind other than to comfort him and ease his pain.

"Jane?" She whispers as she falls to her knees in front of him. His eyes remain unfocused, staring at a point somewhere over her left shoulder. "Jane," She says again, more forceful this time, raising her hands to his shoulders and giving him a gentle shake.

He flinches back from her touch but otherwise remains unresponsive.

"Patrick?" She whispers eventually, tentatively raising her hands to his cheeks because although she's never been a touchy feely kind of person she thinks maybe she can make an exception for him. His skin is cool beneath her fingertips and she can feel the dried tear tracks which have run down his face. The realization that he has cried tears over her and for her makes her stomach turn over and for a moment she feels physically sick.

She leans forward slightly, trying to get his eyes to focus on her own, while stroking her thumbs back and forwards over his cheekbones lightly. She is unsure how long they remain like this before he seems to return to himself slightly. His eyes finally meet her own and she shudders at the intensity of his stare.

"Lisbon?" He whispers, so quietly that at first she isn't sure if she has imagined it.

"I'm here," She nods, pulling back slightly so she can see him more clearly. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" He croaks, his voice sounding as terrible as hers did when she first spoke to Van Pelt. "You told me the truth."

"No," She says, more forcefully now. "I was so angry, not at you but I took it out on you anyway. You didn't deserve any of what I said to you."

"I deserve much worse than that." He responds. "You were right about all of it, I got them killed, and I should have noticed Rebecca. I'm sure the clues were there I just didn't..."

"Stop it, please," Lisbon whispers. "It wasn't your fault. If I could take it all back I would, but I can't change what I said to you. I'm telling the truth now, I promise I don't blame you."

He stares at her and she knows he is reading her in a way that only he can. For once she doesn't become uncomfortable under his intense gaze; she stares back just as resolutely, willing him to see the truth in her expression. He sighs wearily before turning away from her, staring at the wall once more.

"It doesn't really matter whether you meant it or not, it was the truth. I'm sure you just said what everybody else was thinking." He says after a long pause.

"No-one blames you. I know what I said about Rebecca was..."

"Don't, please. I don't think I can talk about it, at least not just yet," He whispers, his voice breaking slightly. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again she can see that the mask he normally wears is gone. In it's place she sees _him._ The anguish on his face is clear and she notices a single tear fall from the corner of his eye. She can't remember one word of the speech she had rehearsed and she can't think of any words to comfort him; so instead she reaches out to him, wrapping her arms securely around his shoulders and he responds in kind, clinging to her so tightly it is almost painful.

She is vaguely aware of the tears falling from her own eyes as they cry together. For once she forgets all about her boundaries and personal space, and the thought that this isn't professional doesn't even cross her mind, instead she lets her body becomes limp in his arms as an overwhelming tiredness washes through her.

Fatigue.

Lisbon isn't sure whether she pulls him or he pulls her, all she knows is that they end up lying side by side on the mattress, holding on to each other desperately. Their arms and legs become so entwined it is difficult to tell which limbs belong to who, but she doesn't complain, she needs this closeness as much as he does.

Their tears dry up eventually but his body still shakes with sobs and Lisbon feels like her heart is tearing in two. She runs her fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him while whispering random words of comfort in his ear. Eventually his body relaxes slightly and his breathing becomes deeper as he falls asleep in her arms. He rolls on to his back and pulls her with him so she ends up sprawled across his chest, arms and legs still intricately entwined. It isn't long after this that Lisbon falls into a slumber as well, lulled by the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

She isn't sure how long she has been asleep, judging by the sunlight still streaming in to the room she doesn't think it can have been more than a couple of hours. She goes from being sound asleep to instantly wide awake in the space of a couple of heartbeats, and she knows Jane is already awake as she can feel his fingertips lightly rubbing circles on the back of her hand. She remains immobile in his arms, head still resting on his chest, as she tries to figure out what she should say next.

"I know you're awake," He whispers after a moments silence, his voice still sounding hoarse. His fingers never stop their movement on the back of her hand and she takes this as a good sign. She just nods her head nervously, unsure what to say and whether or not she has the courage to look him in the eyes after everything that has transpired between them.

"You're nervous," He states calmly, sounding a bit more like his usual know-it-all self.

She still doesn't respond.

"Look at me," He commands.

"I can't," She finally manages to say. His fingers stop drawing random patterns on her hand; instead he trails them lightly up her arm, over her collarbone and up her neck until he is cupping her cheek gently.

"Please look at me, Teresa," It is the use of her first name which shocks her enough to tilt her head back slightly, aided by the gentle pressure of his fingertips on her cheek, until her eyes finally meet his own blue gaze.

"I forgive you," He states simply, and it weren't for the honesty and truth she can read on his face she would swear he was joking. How can he possibly forgive her just like that, after all of the harsh words she had thrown at him?

"How? Why? I don't deserve it," She says sadly. She tries to sit up to put some distance between their bodies as his close proximity is making it difficult for her to think, but he clings to her tighter, holding her in position against his chest.

"I won't lie to you, what you said hurt, I think it hurt more coming from you than it would have from anyone else. But I don't blame you for saying what you did...I should have picked up on _her_."

"I know that Bosco didn't have your skills and he couldn't read people like you do,"She says hesitantly, unsure whether he is ready to talk about it yet, "but he was still a damn good cop and he spent more time with her than anyone else. So if he didn't realize that something was wrong then why should you? You're good at what you do, but you're not perfect and you make mistakes just like the rest of us."

"I can't afford to make mistakes when it comes to Red John," He says sadly.

"If we've learnt anything about Red John from this, it's that he makes mistakes too. We'll get him one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, but we'll get him." She says firmly, more determined now than ever to catch the man who has caused so much pain.

She opens her mouth to apologize one more time but it seems he has anticipated what she is going to do and he speaks before she can.

"Don't apologize again," He says, shaking his head slightly. "There's no need, I forgive you."

"I know you said that already but I have a hard time believing you," She says softly. Her hands have dropped to his shoulders and she finds herself nervously fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

"Why don't you believe me?" He asks gently.

"Because I was so cruel, I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"I happen to disagree. You deserve much more than I could ever give you," He pauses and she tilts her head back so she can see his face. "But I'm a selfish man and knowing that you deserve better than me isn't enough to make me walk away from you."

She studies his expression intently, trying to understand what he is saying. Her heartbeat quickens in response to his words and the intimate tone of his voice, and his fingers which are drawing patterns on her wrist cause goose bumps to rise on her skin.

"What are you saying?" She asks eventually, when the tension between them becomes too much. He doesn't respond, instead he just continues staring at her intently. His scrutiny makes her nervous and she wants to look away to break the connection, but her body remains frozen and her gaze is locked on his own.

He leans forward and presses his lips to her own quickly, almost chastely, before pulling back to judge her reaction. She is stunned for a moment, unsure whether to berate him for inappropriate behaviour or demand that he kiss her again. In the end she does neither, she just waits for his next move.

He leans his head down slightly so that their faces are inches apart, his eyes flicker down towards her lips before meeting her gaze again, making his intentions clear.

"Tell me to stop," He whispers, even as he raises his hand to cup her cheek and pull her impossibly closer.

"I wish I could," She says breathlessly.

It appears that this is all the answer he needs because she has barely finished speaking before he leans forward slightly to capture her lips with his own. She raises her hands to his neck and clings to him as the kiss turns from sweet to passionate in the space of a heartbeat.

He leans backwards, pulling her with him, so he is lying flat on the mattress with her body lying flush on top of him. She feels one of his hands trail down her side until he is gripping her waist, while the other hand tangles in her hair.

When they finally break apart she knows her face is flushed and her breathing is embarrassingly fast. He maintains his tight hold on her and she makes no moves to distance herself from him, instead she leans her head down and rests it on his shoulder while she catches her breath.

When she tilts her head back to look up at him he just smiles at her, and although it isn't his usual mega-watt grin it seems genuine, enough to make her believe that maybe he isn't completely broken after all. It's enough to make her think that maybe, just maybe, they have a chance. It's enough to give her hope. She returns his smile with one of her own when she realizes how she feels.

Optimistic.

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So, that's it. Any thoughts? I may write a sequel to this so keep checking back for updates. Once again, thanks for reading and I would love to hear from you.


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